Chapter 4: In The Shadows

After another exhausting night, I stirred awake to find my mother enveloped in an exuberance I had never witnessed before. Her eyes sparkled with an infectious joy, a radiant light that seemed to illuminate the entire room.

“Good morning, Mom,” I murmured, still taken aback by the sheer brightness of her demeanor.

“Oh, my darling, good morning to you!” she replied, her voice a melody of happiness that danced in the air.

I blinked in astonishment, momentarily speechless. It was a rare sight to behold—her spirit was unshackled, her laughter bubbling forth like a gentle brook. The woman I had known for so long carried an aura of composure, a resilient strength tempered by a quiet sadness that lingered just beneath the surface, rarely acknowledged but always felt.

“What’s going on? I’ve never seen you this happy before,” I asked, unable to conceal the curiosity in my voice.

She let out a soft, musical laugh, stretching her arms wide, as if to embrace the very essence of the morning. “Darling, it feels so wonderful to finally be my full self. It’s hard to radiate joy when part of you is confined, hidden away.”

As her words washed over me, I felt a pang of sorrow deep in my heart. For years, she had held back, suppressing her vibrant spirit, living as a mere shadow of the extraordinary person I now glimpsed before me.

“Lilith, the sadness I carried—I made it my own,” she continued, her gaze steady and warm, reading the concern etched upon my face. “When I discovered my true power, fear crept in, and I felt the need to suppress it, to shield both myself and you from the potential chaos it could unleash. I worried about how the world would perceive me. My company may not have flourished if I had embraced who I really am. And you… how could I have thrived knowing you were afraid of me?”

A lump formed in my throat as I took a cautious step forward, overwhelmed by her vulnerability. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her close, anchoring us both in this moment of revelation and connection.

She had sacrificed pieces of herself, carving away fragments of her own essence so that we could forge a brighter life together. As I held her close, a small tinge of fear unfurled in my chest, a whisper of anxiety threading through my mind—an instinctive reaction to the immense power that now coursed through her being. Yet, despite the unease, it wasn’t enough to push me away.

“I am truly glad you’re happier now,” I murmured softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

She cupped my cheek, her touch warm and reassuring, her eyes glowing with the deep, unwavering love that only a mother can offer. “Sweetheart, I’ve always found joy in our moments together. You are worth every single sacrifice I made.”

A smile tugged at my lips, comforted by her words, yet a gnawing awareness settled within me, a reminder of the heavy burden she had carried for far too long.

“Now hurry up and get ready for school,” she said, her expression shifting like the tides with an undeniable authority. “I have a board meeting to attend.”

I nodded, though as I turned toward my room, the sensation that something profound had irrevocably changed between us clung to my thoughts.

She was no longer lurking in the shadows of her own making.

And neither was I.

I was overflowing with joy as I walked through the grand entrance of the school, a sense of determination radiating from every step. Fawn and I glided down the bustling hallways, our heads held high, proudly displaying our talismans—intricate symbols and charms that spoke of ancient magic and personal empowerment. Gone were the days of concealing our true selves; we had fully embraced our identities, unafraid of judgment.

For far too long, we had stifled the more vibrant parts of our souls, wary of how the world might react to our uniqueness. But now? Now, we proudly unleashed ourselves into the open air of acceptance and self-expression.

I had taken my gothic fashion to new heights, reveling in it with unapologetic fervor. My flowing black skirts billowed around me like the wings of a raven, and delicate lace gloves adorned my hands, reminding me of the enchanting mysteries of twilight. Silver jewelry, etched with ancient symbols, sparkled against my pale skin—each piece a shimmering testament to my true essence. There was no more subtlety in my attire, no timid hesitations to hide behind.

As we walked, students glanced our way, their eyes wide with intrigue and whispers swirling like autumn leaves. But I felt liberated; their opinions were nothing more than the wind beneath our wings. Let them talk. Let them speculate.

Fawn, her lips curled into an amused smirk, twirled a strand of her rich auburn hair absentmindedly. She had reimagined her style, drawing deeply from her kinship with the natural world. Deep emerald greens, earthy browns, and soft creams harmonized perfectly with her naturally enchanting aura, as if she were a living extension of the forest itself. Vines were woven intricately into her tousled locks like a crown of the wild, and delicate charms—each imbuing her with the essence of the Earth Mother—danced around her wrists, whispering secrets of the wilderness.

“You realize we’re making a scene, right?” she teased, her voice a playful melody as we approached our lockers.

I returned her smirk, tossing my long, raven-black curls over my shoulder as if to accentuate our defiance. “Good,” I declared.

For the first time in our lives, we weren’t hiding our true selves. And that sense of freedom? It felt utterly powerful.

As we strolled down the corridor, the familiar taunts of a few boys echoed around us, jarring against the otherwise mundane sounds of lockers slamming and chatter. They leered at us, their expressions cocky and condescending, mocking the reputation we had long carried.

“We better watch out,” one of them sneered, jabbing his elbow into his friend's side, his eyes glinting with mischief. “The witches might put a curse on us.”

His friend, a lanky boy with an overgrown mop of hair, chuckled and added, “Yeah, next thing you know, we’ll be turned into frogs or something,” his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I glanced over at Fawn, exchanging a conspiratorial smile that hinted at the mischief brewing beneath our playful exteriors. These boys had been relentless in their teasing for years, but today felt different—today felt ripe for a little fun.

I whipped around dramatically, my arms raised like a conductor poised at the helm of an orchestra. Employing my best wicked witch voice, I proclaimed, “I curse you all to take a great fall!” My tone dripped with theatricality, and I wiggled my fingers in the air, embracing the stereotype of the cliché movie witch.

The boys chuckled, rolling their eyes as if my antics were beneath their concern, but what they didn’t realize was that in the midst of my performance, I was subtly weaving a thread of magic into my playful act. As I flailed my hands, I enchanted their shoelaces to entwine, unnoticed by them.

With a wicked cackle for effect, I leaned into the role, completely immersed in the charade.

Fawn gasped exaggeratedly, her eyes wide with mock indignation. “That’s not how you curse someone!” she declared, her voice loud enough to draw a few curious glances.

I couldn’t suppress my grin. “I know, I was just playing,” I replied, the thrill of mischief dancing in my chest.

But Fawn’s keen eyes had caught my secret. Her face lit up with excitement as a small giggle escaped her lips, while I shot her a knowing look.

We resumed our walk, brushing off the boys' lingering chuckles—until one of them, stirred by curiosity and perhaps a hint of bravado, stepped forward.

Or, at least, he attempted to.

The instant he moved, their intertwined laces yanked, and in an instant, they toppled over like a row of clumsy dominoes. Fawn and I turned just in time to witness the scene—a flurry of limbs and shocked expressions as they crashed to the ground, their laughter abruptly replaced by bewildered shouts.

I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. “I guess that is the way to curse someone,” I deadpanned, my voice carrying a touch of mock gravitas.

Fawn erupted into a fit of laughter, her delight infectious, and soon I was swept into her mirth, joining her in jubilant gales.

With a final glance at the tangled heap of boys, we turned and walked away, leaving them to sort themselves out in a flurry of confusion and humiliation. For once, the exhilaration of having a little fun felt electric, igniting a spark of rebellion that lingered in the air.

Unbeknownst to us, a future Holy Fighter lurked among our classmates, an unseen witness to the unfolding drama. He had observed every flicker of magic, every whispered incantation.

As Fawn and I stood by our lockers, the cool metal of the lockers contrasting with the warmth of our bodies, he approached us. His presence was striking—firm and unwavering, yet nuanced with a sense of restraint that suggested a deeper purpose. There was an aura about him, composed and calculated, yet undeniably charged with conviction.

“I saw what you did,” he declared, his voice resonating with a stern authority that commanded attention.

Fawn and I exchanged a glance thick with unspoken understanding before turning to face him. He towered before us, an immovable figure, his expression set like stone. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, bore into mine, laden with a warning that coiled in the air between us.

“You better stop playing with the dark forces,” he cautioned, his tone grave. “That can only lead to your damnation.”

As I assessed him closely, I noticed a stark difference between him and the boys who often ridiculed us. His words weren’t mere taunts, born of ignorance or malice. No, he spoke with a sincerity that suggested he truly believed in the weight of his warnings. He was serious—an undeniable force of righteousness.

“It would behoove you to find the Lord and seek His forgiveness,” he urged, his voice unwavering and infused with a quiet authority that resonated like a distant bell.

And then I felt it—a flicker deep within him, subtle yet unmistakable. The faintest touch of holy power radiated from his being.

So, this was the essence of a Holy Fighter.

I straightened my posture, letting my own energy simmer just beneath my skin, ready to surge forth. When I finally spoke, my voice emerged low and controlled, heavy with the undertones of warning.

“You Holy Rollers best stay out of our way,” I warned, each word laced with defiance. “I will not tolerate your interference in our sacred duties.”

His expression flickered, the surprise evident on his face as he processed my unexpected resistance.

“The Goddess protects us from your God,” I continued, my conviction flaring like a flame. “Do not provoke us. We will not stand idly by while you interfere with our mission to save Mother Earth.”

His jaw tightened, the muscles working under the skin, yet he remained resolute in his silence. He felt the weight of my words, the undeniable truth behind them settling in the air between us.

With a shared resolve, Fawn and I slammed our lockers shut in unison—a sharp, echoing sound that sliced through the stillness of the quiet hallway.

We turned on our heels, striding past him with steely determination, feeling the intensity of his gaze still weighing upon us. He chose to remain silent.

A few students cast lingering looks our way, whispering among themselves as we made our way back to class. Let them talk.

Lilith had commanded us to reveal ourselves, and I was simply following the urgent call of our creator.

After the first period, I was summoned to the office, my heart racing with an unsettling mix of anticipation and dread. As I approached, I could feel it—the unmistakable aura of Holy Magic. It enveloped the office like a heavy, oppressive fog, far stronger than the energy of the student who had confronted us earlier. My instincts ignited, and I instinctively let my magic unfurl from within me, a protective shield against the energy that pressed in, stifling and unbearable.

I stepped inside the office, and my gaze instantly locked onto the source of this malevolent force—him. The Holy Fighter.

He had anticipated that I might waver under his potent influence, expected me to cower, to display even a hint of fear. But instead, it was he who faltered, visibly shaken.

I felt his resolve begin to crumble beneath the weight of my magic, swirling around us like a tempest. His composure shattered, and his son—Billy—raised his gaze to meet mine, his eyes wide with trepidation.

“I told you not to interfere with us,” I stated, my voice ice-cold and unwavering.

Both of them hastily made the sign of the cross, as if such gestures could provide any protection against me.

Then, a new presence stirred in the atmosphere.

My mother.

Her power surged forward, an unseen storm gathering strength as it rolled toward us, thickening the already tense air. When she entered the office, the atmosphere shifted—darkened, as if the very light had dimmed in her colossal shadow. I didn’t need to see her face to know that the sheer force of her presence had instilled dread in them, rendering them paralyzed.

I turned to face her, locking eyes in silent communication. “You promised, Mom.”

A soft exhale escaped her lips, a quiet acknowledgment of my unspoken plea. With an elegance that only heightened her authority, she allowed her magic, still a palpable weight in the room, to recede just a little.

“You’re right, my darling,” she said smoothly, her tone both soothing and commanding.

Even as she restrained her energy, she still exuded an aura that screamed power and authority. Her hair was meticulously pulled back into a tight bun, and her fitted business suit accentuated her commanding presence, making her look every inch the formidable CEO she was. But it was her expression—steely, unwavering—that contained the true essence of her power.

Billy’s father rose from his seat, a defiance in his stance as he confronted her directly. “You better get your husband down here so he can knock some sense into that daughter of yours. She needs discipline and to be brought before God.”

My mother’s breath drew in sharply, a hiss of indignation escaping her lips.

Before she could respond, the principal’s office door swung open with a decisive creak, and Mr. Darby, our school principal, stepped out, his demeanor all business.

“Alright,” he said, his voice resonating with authority, “let’s all take this inside.”

Fortunately, he hadn’t overheard the exchange, but I could sense the tension radiating from my mother—she was a volcano on the brink of eruption.

I reached for her hand, gripping it tightly, feeling the warmth and strength radiating from my mother. I was bursting with pride to have a woman by my side who would fight for me with every ounce of her being.

As we settled into our seats, the atmosphere was palpable, thick with tension and uncertainty, wrapping around us like an oppressive fog.

Mr. Darby leaned forward, his brow furrowed and eyes keen. “So, tell me what happened, Billy.”

Billy smirked, casting me a triumphant glance before turning his attention back to the principal. “Mr. Darby, I witnessed her harming some students, and when I went to confront her, she threatened me.”

Mr. Darby nodded thoughtfully, maintaining an expression that was both unreadable and measured. “And who did she harm, and what exactly did she do?”

“Glen Holiday and his friends,” Billy replied, his confidence bubbling over. “She tripped them so they all fell over each other. She just laughed and walked away.”

With deliberate slowness, Mr. Darby turned his gaze toward me, inviting my response. I leaned back in my chair, steadying my voice to remain unruffled. “As you know, Mr. Darby, Glen and his friends have been relentlessly teasing Fawn and me about being witches since our very first day at this school.” I let the weight of that statement linger in the air, allowing its implications to settle before I continued. “The truth is, Fawn and I have always found their jibes amusing—because it’s true. We are witches.”

A soft chuckle escaped my mother’s lips, her eyes sparkling with understanding as she recognized the playful truth behind my words.

I continued, “If you check the camera footage by the lockers, you’ll see me playing along with their mockery. I hammed it up, channeling a cackling old witch straight out of a movie, declaring, ‘I curse you all to take a great fall!’”

A smirk danced on my lips as I allowed the sheer absurdity of that statement to fill the room.

“It was all in good fun,” I explained simply, my tone grounded yet infused with a touch of mischief. “Afterward, Fawn and I walked away, laughter bubbling up between us, because we both knew that curses like those were nothing but fanciful nonsense. But then, suddenly, we heard a loud crash behind us. When we turned to look, there were Glen and his friends sprawled on the floor like a tumble of mismatched dolls. It was so absurd that we burst into laughter again. Because really, Mr. Darby—how could a few silly words like that possibly cause them to trip?”

I folded my arms tightly, feeling the tension coil within me, as I stared at Billy, whose face was turning a deep crimson, a telling sign of his rising frustration.

“That’s when Billy confronted us at our lockers, his voice ringing through the hall like a bell, demanding that we abandon our dark magic practices and repent to the Lord for forgiveness, or else risk eternal damnation,” I recounted, punctuating my words with a steady gaze.

Mr. Darby’s attention flickered toward Billy, who shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, his discomfort palpable. I continued, my voice steady and unwavering. “He ridiculed my religious beliefs and those of my family and our coven, like they were nothing more than a joke. So, I snapped back, telling him and his Holy Rollers to keep their judgmental noses out of our lives.”

By now, Billy’s complexion was fully engulfed in a shade of red, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“I understand that Billy is some sort of uptight Christian,” I finished, my resolve hardening, “but that does not give him the right to mock what I hold dear.”

Mr. Darby leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily, the weight of the situation clearly settling on him. He turned to Billy, his expression grave. “Billy, it seems to me that you instigated this conflict by placing your religious beliefs above those of another student. You cannot admonish someone for having different beliefs and expect them to remain calm.”

Just as Billy opened his mouth to protest, his father interrupted, his voice booming with authority. “I believe this child is being harmed by her mother allowing her to indulge in these Satanic beliefs. Her father should step up and put an end to this madness.”

That. Was. It.

My mother, a force of nature in her own right, wasn’t about to let one more word from this man slide by unchallenged.

Before Mr. Darby could interject, she unleashed her words, sharp and unwavering. “My daughter and I are perfectly fine,” she snapped, her tone fierce as a blade. “I’ve never allowed a man into my life, nor do I have any desire to. Keep your misogynistic views to yourself.”

Billy’s father looked stunned, the shock evident on his face at her boldness, but she wasn’t finished.

“Do not belittle my family’s beliefs with your self-righteous attitude. If you ever dare to question my parenting again, especially in front of my daughter, I will sue you for defamation. You can expect my lawyers to reach out soon regarding a restraining order against you and your son.”

The air around us thickened with her rising power, swirling like an unseen force, and I could sense Billy and his father instinctively recoiling, as if they were feeling the weight of something far more formidable pressing down on them.

I didn’t intervene right away; I wanted them to stew in the tension, to feel the full brunt of my mother’s fury. But eventually, I reached out, taking her hand gently, a silent signal that it was time to draw back her energy.

Her strength began to retreat slowly, the oppressive atmosphere dissipating.

Mr. Darby cleared his throat, his voice steady yet filled with authority. “Mr. Dean, I must align myself with Ms. Raven on this matter. Your comments were not only inappropriate but outright condescending toward her and her family's beliefs. This school does not endorse, nor will it ever tolerate, discrimination based on religious differences.” His tone grew firmer as he added, “If you desire a school more aligned with your religious views, there are numerous Christian institutions nearby.”

Billy’s father clenched his jaw, anger sparking in his eyes, but he chose not to argue further.

Turning back to me, Mr. Darby’s demeanor softened. “Lilith, I truly apologize for the treatment you were subjected to today. As a school, we stand against discrimination of any kind. If you feel capable of returning to class, you are welcome to do so; however, if this incident impacts your focus, I can provide you with an excused absence.”

I rose from my seat, smoothing my skirt with confidence. “Thank you, Mr. Darby, but I refuse to allow hate to hinder my growth. I’ll return to class.”

With my mother at my side, I strode out of the office, a smile breaking free on my lips, filled with a sense of victory and defiance.

“This could ignite a conflict, Lilith,” she cautioned, her expression serious. “Prepare yourself.”

I met her gaze and nodded resolutely. “I will, Mom.”

I didn’t catch a glimpse of Billy for the rest of the day, which wasn’t surprising—after all, our schedules didn’t overlap at all. Honestly, I felt a wave of relief wash over me; I wasn’t in the mood for another tense confrontation. The lingering memories of our earlier exchange had already dampened my spirits.

At lunchtime, I sought solace in Fawn’s company and animatedly recounted everything that had transpired. Her laughter filled the air as I elaborated on my clever verbal gymnastics with Mr. Darby, explaining how I had technically told the truth by cleverly omitting a particularly significant detail. “It’s not like he would’ve believed I actually used magic anyway,” I added with a teasing smirk, savoring the moment.

Fawn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “And your mom—I love her! I wish I could’ve witnessed her go off on Billy’s dad,” she exclaimed, tossing a juicy grape into her mouth, the vibrant fruit popping between her teeth. She shook her head, her voice laced with admiration. “Any of our moms would’ve lost it on that guy, but your mom? That would’ve been legendary.”

I chuckled, her words resonating with an undeniable truth. Our mothers were like fierce guardians, gallant warriors when it came to defending their daughters from any threat.

After school, Julia arrived to pick us up, her car a familiar refuge. She wasn’t just any coven sister; she was also the caring mother of little Millie. At just six years old, Millie was among the youngest witches in our coven, and without a doubt, the cutest little girl ever to grace our lives.

As soon as Fawn and I climbed into the car, an excited squeal burst forth from the backseat. “Lili! Fawny!” Millie practically bounced, her curly dark hair dancing with enthusiasm as she wriggled in her booster seat.

“Millie!” Fawn and I chorused, our voices filled with joy.

Millie giggled, her face alight with happiness. “I missed you!” she exclaimed, reaching out with tiny hands.

I turned around, squeezing her delicate hand gently in mine. “We missed you too, little witch,” I said, feeling a warmth spread through me.

Julia glanced back at us through the rearview mirror, her expression a blend of concern and affection. “Your moms are working late,” she relayed, her voice steady as she navigated the car out of the parking lot. “They’re pushing hard to get that restraining order finalized.”

Fawn and I exchanged worried glances, an unwelcome heaviness settling in the pit of my stomach.

“Figures,” Fawn muttered under her breath, her disappointment palpable.

I leaned back against the plush seat, exhaling deeply. “Good. That man needs to know he can’t just cross boundaries,” I asserted, reaffirming my stance.

Julia nodded in agreement, her gaze focused on the road ahead. “They’re just looking out for you both. That’s why I came to get you instead of letting you take the bus.”

I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Julia. We really appreciate it,” I said, feeling a wave of comfort wash over me.

She returned my smile with warmth, her eyes reflecting a bond deeper than friendship. “You two are family. We always look after our own,” she reminded us gently.

From the backseat, Millie hummed contentedly, her small feet kicking rhythmically as she played with a shimmering crystal charm in her hands, its facets catching the light.

For the first time that day, I allowed myself to truly relax. In that moment, surrounded by my friends and the comforting presence of caring adults, I realized one undeniable truth: no matter what challenges lay ahead, I was never alone.